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“Truly, lass,” he said, pulling a chair from the table for her.  “You must eat. We offer our assistance, and gladly, but  food is the first, best help for you.”

She stared at him, wrapped haphazardly in a cornflower blue plaid, with bare legs and feet. The sun had risen warm and bright that day, and all the doors and windows to their cottage were open to the breeze, rustling James's hair gently over his shoulders.

The sight of a man so casually at home stabbed her. She should have
 
her
 
man there. She should be eating breakfast

with
 
MacColla
.

They'd arrived well after dark after a day of sailing.

Though they were on a small, barely inhabited island, it was like paradise, with a sandy beach, lush rolling hills, and strange and dramatic rocky outcroppings.

And it kindled memories of her time with MacColla on the

Mull of Kintyre that were almost too painful to acknowledge.

“I'll not lift a finger for you until you have a decent meal in

your belly.” James said firmly.

“MacColla would want that.” It was his wife Magda  speaking quietly. Haley looked at her, instantly on the  defensive. But her face was so open and sincere. Haley  couldn't fault her.

“All right,” she muttered, sitting to let James guide her

chair in. “Just a little.”

Forcing herself to chew an oatcake, she stole another glance at James's wife.

Rollo told her  Magda had also come from the future, and  Haley had immediately recognized her as a contemporary.  She couldn't put her finger on why or how. Something about her words, the way she carried herself, spoke to a different time and place.

Haley wondered if
 
she
 
stood out that much.

She'd felt instantly self-conscious in front of the woman.  She was tall and pretty, with long, shining copper hair, and so effortlessly elegant despite her hugely pregnant belly.

And she was from Manhattan, of all places.

Haley swallowed hard, quickly taking a sip of water to wash down the dry lump. Only
 
she
 
would travel back in time and land with a damned Yankees fan.

Magda caught her staring. Haley felt her cheeks go red and said the first thing that came to her mind. “I have to save him.”

“Haley,” Rollo said somberly from across the table. “'Tis too

late for MacColla. But not too late to help you find a ”-

“No,” Haley said more sharply than she'd intended. “I can't

accept that he's dead.”

James and his wife stole a glance. “There might be a way,”

Magda said gravely.

“Och, hen.” James looked at his wife, concern plain on his

face. “It could kill her.”

“What way?” Haley pushed her plate away. “I'll do  anything.” She pinned her gaze on James, telling him, “You  more than anyone must understand the need to risk your  life for something, or
 
someone
 
you love.”

“He does.” Magda reached to place her hand over her

husband's to silence him. “As I do, Haley.”

Haley stared at her a moment. She felt like a heel. Of course this woman would understand more than anyone what she went through. This woman who gave up everything for the man she loved.

It was different for Haley, who spoke Gaelic, had steeped herself for years in the history of this period. But Magda?  Magda, with the fancy parents and fancy job in New York  City? Magda wouldn't know flintlocks from
 
Flintstones
.

“Come with me,” Magda said softly.

Haley followed her to the only other room in the cottage. It was small and sun-drenched, with a desk, two trunks, a humble bed, and a woode n cradle waiting in the corner.

“Go ahead.” Magda nodded for Haley to sit on the bed. The  wooden frame creaked as she sat. The ticked mattress was

thin, but more comfortable than it looked, stuffed with

what felt like a mixture of feathers and straw.

Magda rifled for a moment in one of the trunks, then came to sit by her side.

“This… ” She lovingly unwrapped a small parcel. “This is a  painting of my brother.” Magda held it for a moment in her  hands, tenderly tracing its outline with her fingertip.

“You  left your brother?” A glimmer of expectancy mingled  with the sympathy in her voice. Did this woman also know  what it was to leave a family of brothers?

“No.” Magda pursed her lips, visibly gathering herself.

“I had a brother who left me. He died. About a year before I

found James.”

“Oh, I… ” Haley thought of her own brothers. Who'd now  lost their sister. “I'm sorry,” she said, her voice hitching,  the apology to Magda and even more so to her own family.

“Take it.” Magda thrust the painting toward her.

“What? Why? I couldn't.”

“Yes.” She placed it in Haley's hands. “You can. It's…  special. A painting was what transported me back in time.  I'm told this has the same powers.”

“But… how?”

“That I don't know,” Magda admitted. “But I thought…  Well, perhaps you could go back in time again.
 
Before
 
MacColla's death.”

Haley sat upright, her gaze pinning Magda.

Magda continued gravely, “Of course, you could also use it to return to your own home. Your own time.”

The two women locked eyes.

Magda broke the silence. “Boston, is it?”

“Don't tell me I have an accent.” She attempted a smile.

“No.” Shaking her head, Magda returned the look, an  expression of mingled sympathy and understanding. “You  mentioned Harvard.”

“Oh, that.” Her world seemed so far away. Things like  academic success a distant and empty memory. She  studied her hands in her lap. “Yeah… I'm a South Boston  girl. Big, Irish Catholic family. You can imagine… ” Her  voice drifted off.

“You miss them.”

Haley felt the tears threaten, and furrowed her face in an effort to staunch them.
  
Miss them?
 
She mustered a

wordless nod.
 
More than anything. More than ever.

She wanted to curl up under her mom's crocheted afghan, family all around. There'd be good-natured bickering, heated debates, and much, much laughter. Maybe an open bottle of wine shared among the women. Her mom would have a roast chicken going, or maybe a lasagna.

Something big, to feed the lot of them, filling the house with scents of warmth and comfort and home.

Miss them? Yes.

Enough to turn  her back on MacColla forever?

She shuddered an inhale. “But what about you? You must miss your own family.”

“Of course.” Magda got a faraway look in her eye. “But I

belong here. With James.”

“Don't you hate the thought… ” Haley dashed her hands  over her eyes. Her throat ached now with the effort of  unshed tears. “The thought that you just… vanished?”

“There was a painting,” Magda said in answer. “The  painting, of James. The one that transported me back. I  tucked it away with a note indicating it belonged at the  Met, the museum where I worked. I also tucked a note  away, for my parents.”

“How can you know they got it?”

“Who knows? My mom was on the Met board of directors…  ” Magda shrugged. “Hell, for all I know, they could've gotten  the note when I was still a kid.” She gave a rueful smile.  “But the painting just showed up at work one day. I have to  imagine the note came with it. Was delivered with it.” She  took a deep breath. “I'll never know. I can hope, though.”

Magda took her hand and continued, “What I do know, though, what I've learned these past months, is that, despite the wars, despite the bloodshed, people are
 
good
. I trust that someone would've delivered my message. Maybe even read it themselves, I don't care. But having witnessed the sacrifice that I have, the devotion and loyalty, honestly  Haley, I really think my parents received my letter. And they'd want me to be happy.”

“Yeah… ” Haley cleared her throat. Scrubbed her face and  tucked her hair back behind her ears. “My family would  want that too. For me to be happy.”

She thought of that big, loving family of hers. Her father, who positively adored and doted on her mother. Her brothers, who were beginning to pair off and begin families of their own. And she projected herself into her own future.  A future in modern-day America. Empty scholarship, cold weapons, and musty books all around. Would she ever meet her life partner, there in Boston?

The moment she wondered, she knew.

She
 
had
 
met her life partner.

MacColla.

“I'll try a letter too.” Haley squeezed Magda's hand tight.  She was certain now. Her time and place was by MacColla's  side. She belonged wherever  - and whenever  - he was.  “But… are you sure… can I really use your painting?”

At Magda's nod, Haley thanked her.

“Well, don't thank  me yet. I'm not sure how this… works.”

Both women sat a little straighter, focused now.

Magda studied the painting in Haley's hands, and Haley realized what it would mean for her to give away the only likeness she had of her brother.

“There's a witch,” Magda said. “You'll need to find her. I'm  certain James wishes
 
he
 
could take you to her, but he can't

risk being recognized.”

“He's very recognizable.” Haley admitted, and both women

shared a tension-relieving laugh.

“As if MacColla isn't?” Magda smiled,  and Haley was

grateful for her use of the present tense.

“Rollo will take you.” Magda continued. “She lives in the  Highlands. Near Clan Cameron. I think she'll be able to  help you.”

“But… ” Haley studied the painting in her hands. A  handsome young man, with Magda's same regal features,  and a head of bright red hair. “But this is the last image  you have of your brother.”

“I don't need a picture to remember Peter,” Magda said,  touching the edge of the painting one last time. “I don't  need evidence of him when he lives on in my heart.”

She wrapped Haley's hands around the miniature portrait.  “You'll see. This place changes you. The simpler life becomes, the richer it grows.”

Haley nodded wordlessly. “Thank you,” she whispered, and gave Magda's fingers an affectionate squeeze.

“Now about that letter of yours,” Magda said, smiling. She  stood and walked to the desk. It was placed by the window,  and a bright ray of sun shone in, illuminating the surface  with hyperreal light. She took a piece of paper from a small  wooden box. “My husband was a famous man. If I  understand correctly, even you originally stayed back in  time merely to discover if he lived or died.”

Haley looked away, embarrassed.

“Oh, I don't blame you, believe me.” Magda grew serious.

“Write them your good-bye. I'll place it with ”-

“James's sword,” Haley interrupted, eyes bright. “A sword  of his is famous, it's on display in a museum in Montrose.  Put it with a sword, marked as his.”

“Yes, I'll do that. With a request that the letter be delivered to whatever address you write, on whichever date you say.  That way you won't worry as I did that they somehow got  the letter, I don't know, when I was still in grade school.”  They shared a smile.

“It could be delivered the day after I disappear,” she

marveled softly.

Her gaze met Magda's. “So… they'd know by now. I mean, if time is a static thing, and my family is out there somewhere. The letter would be in their hands by now.”

“I can't wrap my own mind around it.” Magda shrugged  and shook her head. “But, yes, if you think about it that  way… By now, your family would've read your goodbye.”

* * *

They'd traveled for hours, hugging along a coastal inlet, finally docking in a small cove along the shore of Loch  Linnhe.

The ground seemed to waver beneath her as she struggled to reclaim her land legs. Haley was stretching and stomping her limbs back to life when she sensed Rollo's abrupt movement.

She turned, amazed to see him with his pistol out loaded, and cocked in seconds.

Haley froze, looking around.  “What are you shoot-?” She swallowed back a startled yelp.

A woman stood on the bank of the lake. Gray smoke spiraled up from a small fire, as if she'd been camped and waiting just for them.

Haley darted a quick look around. They were in the middle of nowhere, vast stretches of wilderness as far as the eye could see. How is it they managed to bump into someone
here
? The woman seemed to have simply materialized from nowhere.

And why did Rollo have his gun trained on her? He at least, seemed to have spotted the stranger straightaway.